Dealing With Undeath
by Ryuuko1
Summary: Cleansing Azeroth of undeath-ALL undeath-surely couldn't be a bad thing.  One just needs power and the resolution to do what one must. But, the road to hell is paved with good intentions...
1. Chapter 1: Down the Dead Scar

**Author**: Set after the Fall of the Lich King. But, the land never recovered from the effects of the Plague and the Scourge are still shambling about and causing trouble. Set far in the future...and no Cataclysm.

**Rated M** for: Gore, language, sexual themes. Especially gore.

**Disclaimer**: WoW doesn't belong to me. Lelthas does, kinda.

**Chapter 1**

**Down the Dead Scar  
**

She swung her sword and a head parted ways with shoulders, the decaying body slumping to its knees, thick ichor oozing out of the wound. To ensure that the undead never rose again, she turned the large, two-handed sword as quickly as if it weighed nothing and plunged it into the small, brightly burning blue ball of light poorly concealed within the creature's chest. She twisted and ripped upwards, splitting the torso in half, the black mockery of blood coating her sword and the ground.

The blue light she had wrenched from the chest of the Scourge clung to the tip of her sword before spreading out onto it, absorbed by the runes that trailed down the center of the blade, the symbols flaring an icy blue.

She turned quickly and caught the inhumanly strong blow of the skeletal guard on her own blade, the ringing of the metal clear and pure in a way those she was fighting were not. She threw the abomination off balance and found the blue ball of energy at its core, armor parting like paper around her swing, bones snapping sickeningly as her sword found its mark, shards of yellow bone pinging futilely against her armor.

The skeleton crumbled and she snarled as a Frostbolt slammed into her back, flickering across her armored torso ineffectively. She turned to face where the cast had come from and with an effort of will sent some of the energy that she had been storing in her blade outwards, directing a burst of freezing energy at the skeletal mage. It was caught in a block of solid ice that would never melt, allowing her to turn her attention to other matters.

The field was littered with mutilated corpses of the Scourge, but there were still many more left to dispose. A slight turn of her head saw one of the mortals she had rallied to her cause fall to a mob of the rotting, repulsive creatures.

It didn't bother her as much as it should have.

All around her those living beings who she had swayed to her side were fighting fiercely, urged on by desperation and her example. She turned and faced the large swath of land that was overrun by monsters before she closed her eyes, both hands gripping the hilt of her sword.

She focused inward, feeling the pulsing energy of the sword singing along her nerves, resonating with the energy of all the Scourge she had eliminated. With a determined, defiant cry she embedded her sword in the earth, directing the energy into the earth. She found every drop of water and turned it to her will, collecting them and freezing them, reaching out to pin all of her enemies in place, she capable of easily determining the dead from the living.

Her eyes opened to see the landscaped changed.

The Scourge were held in an icy grip, wailing pathetically as they knew—just _knew,_ even in their mindlessness_—_that a final death was upon them. A layer of frost covered the ground, making every step crunch as frozen soil was crushed underfoot. The ambient air temperature had dropped a few degrees, so a light fog had also formed and tugged at the heels of the combatants. When she moved, she found that ice flaked off of her armor, which made her smile faintly. Anymore, she seemed to have an affinity for ice, which amused her, considering how much her twin _loathed_ the cold.

She looked away from the result of her efforts to find her allies regarding her with unabashed awe.

"Do not waste my effort," she snapped, and her soldiers were brought back to the task at hand.

She withdrew her sword and flicked off the diseased soil contemptuously.

A dark chuckle passed through her mind. _Creative, aren't we?_

_Shut up,_ she snapped back, thrusting the presence away from her forcefully.

She advanced on the caster she had previously frozen and shattered the ice as she simultaneously shattered the bones that composed the undead mage. She sneered as the energy that animated it became hers, and turned to the field of rotting flesh, tattered clothes, yellow bones, and unholy energy burning within the warped remains of what used to be mortal.

She charged into where the population of abominations was thickest and her sword flashed and caught the sunlight as it moved, a precise blur of unending cold as the muck that was the lifeblood of the Scourge-beings arced through the air and stained her armor, invisible against the dark black. Because of the area's natural climate, her spell was fading rapidly, so it was a race against time to get as many Scourge slain as possible while they were still helpless.

Her sword passed cleanly through a risen spirit-like creature, the energy that made it being sucked quickly into her sword, the runes glowing brighter as it absorbed more and more of the energy that animated the corpses and raised the spirits of those who should rightfully be at peace. With a yell, she whirled around and the long reach of her sword cut through the distended limbs of the abominations of those that surrounded her as easily as cutting butter, they foolishly swarming to the most dangerous of enemies.

With the two-handed monstrosity she was using, she should have tired long ago, her muscles trembling with exhaustion, but every Scourge death renewed her strength. Even though sweat soaked into the clothing she wore beneath her armor, her breathing became no more labored than it had when the battle began, hours ago. She moved with a swift grace, it almost as if her hooves never quite touched the ground, or that it aided her in her movement.

She came across a group of blood elves and gave them a fierce smile as she aided a paladin in disposing of a particularly annoying caster-Scourge. For a few moments she moved with the defiant group of Sin'dorei as they dragged mob after mob to them, determination set on their faces. She saw the mages switch to Frost magic, which, for some reason, always became exponentially stronger when she was present.

She caught them becoming gray with exhaustion, fel-green eyes growing dull. She took down twenty Scourge with a single spell before turning to the group, whose eyes were wide in fear and hunger.

"Go rest. Send another group out who have rested," she commanded before turning away, certain that her orders would be obeyed.

The killing field lay before her, and her lips pulled back into a grim smile. She dove back into the fray, pulling Scourge off of the more delicate members of her troops, decimating all those foolish enough to stray into her range.

She was surprised when she found herself staring across the small river that separated Eversong Woods from the Ghostlands. She turned and saw what was left of the Scourge retreating. She frowned and turned to her troops.

She called out the names of her Hunters and Warlocks, who snapped to attention at her voice.

"Finish them off," she commanded, gesturing to the shambling undead running away as fast as they could.

She watched the mixture of Horde races give chase before she sighed and strapped her sword to her waist. She removed her helm clumsily, the exertion of the battle finally catching up with her now that she was no longer moving. She found the arm that she tucked the helmet under was trembling, her legs _screaming_ in pain. She shook off her weakness and turned to face the destruction she and her followers had wrought.

Within the portion of the Dead Scar they had assaulted, not a single undead thing was left animated. She watched as priests, shaman, druids, and paladins resurrected what fallen warriors they could, while mages burned the remains of the undead, and the wounded were cared for by those without innate healing skills as others staggered their way off the killing ground, every motion weary beyond belief.

Only she remained standing in the diseased field itself, observing everything with impassive eyes.

_I have won a great victory_.

She smiled faintly and turned to her right before asking: "What do you think, Ivi'al?"

A female blood elf rogue faded into sight beside her, a wry smile forming on the elf's features as she stood from her crouch.

"Who did you say you were again?" the rogue asked, smothered shameful awe in her voice.

"Lelthas," she answered.

"And remind me why a female Draenei is helping an enemy of her people?"

Lelthas turned from regarding the rogue to looking back at the Scar. "The Scourge are the enemy of all living things, regardless of faction. It is my calling to wipe them off the face of Azeroth. I will assure that these Scourge are the last. Wipe them out, and, aside from the occasional necromancer, the denizens of this world need no longer fear undeath."

"No, we just have to worry about killing each other then," Ivi'al commented dryly.

Lelthas chuckled. "I suppose. Still, won't it be nice to know that when you die, your body will no longer be used without your consent?"

The blood elf shuddered. "I see your point. Come, there's no use staying in this place."

The rogue vanished from sight, and Lelthas moved at a sedate pace towards where her army had set up camp.

She was stopped by a body of one of her comrades in her path, the blood elf slashed from nape to navel, his organs sloshing out of his wound, a mass of things that had once helped power a living, breathing, sentient being pooled in a dark stain on the ashen soil.

Magic curled up within her, dark and seductive that whispered, _You can heal him. Bring him back to life._

Lelthas ruthlessly squashed the magic, banishing it to the darkest recesses of her soul, a scowl forming on her face as she moved around the body, leaving it behind. She was careful to avoid any of the other corpses of her fallen soldiers, setting a corpse detail for those not horribly injured, to make sure that their fallen friends wouldn't be tainted by the Dead Scar and possibly brought back to life without any consciousness.

She walked over to where the medical tent was, looking over those who were on the verge, patched together by bandages while druids, shaman, paladins, and priests all recovered their power. There were more injured than she would have liked, but less than she had expected.

_You are strong. But you would be stronger only if you would tap into my innate power..._

_Your innate power is __**evil**__, _she asserted. _I will use the energy I retrieve and what I have naturally. You cannot tempt me into using your dark energy._

The sight of so many of the males and females she had grown to know dead made it _very_ tempting, though.

_They would not come back as who they once were,_ she reminded herself, steeling her resolution.

"How is everyone?" she asked, and the conglomerate of weary healers started, obviously panicked for a moment before Lelthas drew attention to herself. "Just me," she said with a small chagrined smile.

The blood elf priest's shoulders relaxed and she looked over to the tent that housed the injured. "We're hurting. Given the magnitude of the battle that we fought, though..." the priest looked back to Lelthas with a wry smile. "It's better than anyone could have hoped for."

"You've done in a short campaign what we have been struggling to accomplish for generations," a Sin'dorei paladin muttered, stance both defiant and exhausted. "How?"

Lelthas tipped her head to the side and smiled faintly. "I know how to fight Scourge. It is...a skill I have cultivated my entire life." Her fingers gently brushed against the hilt of her sword.

A Orc shaman shook her head and crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "The Spirits flee from you. You reek of strange magic—not the arcane the Sin'dorei use, something else."

Lelthas shifted her weight and shrugged. "The Spirits have never spoken to me. I apologize if I offend them." She looked to the nearby Tauren druid. "How many were lost?"

The number the druid gave Lelthas made her eyebrows snap up.

_Many less than I had thought._

"Fantastic!" Lelthas said warmly. "I'm relieved." She bowed to all of the healers present. "If you would pardon me..."

She moved away from speaking with the healers, mouth twisted in a bitter smile.

_How would I explain you?_ She wondered as her fingers lightly rested on the pommel of her sword.

She walked into the main camp, and stopped by each group of exhausted soldiers, pleased to see that the races mingled (even if the classes did not, which amused her), offering support, complimenting them, bolstering their confidence in themselves and what they had achieved, all while keeping watch for the return of the detachment of Hunters and Warlocks she had sent to kill the last of the Scourge.

Eventually, they returned with less one, telling tales of her courage.

"Who was she?" Lelthas asked as she idly fiddled with the clasp that held her cloak in place.

The name given was one she was vaguely familiar with—enough to know that the hunter had been suspicious about Lelthas' motives, and so was someone she had necessarily tread lightly around.

Lelthas was pleased at the removal of a potential obstacle, but had to keep up appearances, and so settled for saying: "She will be missed," before sending them on their way.

_How ironic would it be to find her and resurrect her, to bind her to your service?_

Lelthas' hand gripped the hilt of her sword, her eyes unseeing as she gazed into the distance. _No. Now stop it._

_There's someone else who will stand in the way of your campaign, you know._

Lelthas's grip became almost painfully tight. _We are _not_ going to have this conversation again._

_You _know_ you will have to kill him eventually._

She shook her head sharply and turned away from gazing down the Dead Scar at the nearby Ghostlands. _No, I won't. I will find a way around. I cannot kill him._

_You _must_. He will be the only one to truly stand between you and total victory._

_I will make sure he is occupied elsewhere so that we need never run up against each other—and therefore never have him figure out who I am._

_We shall see. With what you are, I doubt that you will be able to stay away from each other for the rest of his life._

_This conversation is ending _now._ I am _not_ going to kill him, and that is _final.

She whirled around, the cloak around her shoulders flaring satisfyingly dramatically as she walked towards the command tent, her hooves making gentle clicks as she strode on the broken pathway to where they had set up their command tent. Inside, she found the military commanders that had been spared for her effort in the Sin'dorei lands. She nodded to them all politely before taking her place at the circular diagram of their motions, little spelled figurines moving in time with real-world events courtesy of some massive and complicated magic that had been gifted to her by the mages of Dalaran.

After some persuasion, of course—not that anyone else in the tent needed to know that.

"The Forsaken continue to deny us military access to Lordaeron," the Orc commander said, obviously annoyed.

"The Forsaken keep their own council," Lelthas said evenly, even though a wave of nausea and hatred rolled through her even at the _mention_ of the race. "How are our movements doing otherwise?"

The Sin'dorei commander stepped forward, her hands moving to press flat against the magicked board. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "We're making good progress. Eversong Woods' Dead Scar seems to be purged of the Scourge, which is a welcome development." The section of the map that had been the Eversong Woods flared a deep emerald green, the Dead Scar's ashen color fading into the green, signifying that, while it might not be cleansed, the Scourge were no longer present.

The Sin'dorei turned her attention to the Ghostlands, which grew to encompass the table. "Now, onto the Ghostlands." The Sin'dorei gestured to the Dead Scar, little dots of sickly green signifying the Scourge that shambled along the length and breadth of the trail of destruction left so many ages ago. "There are more and stronger Scourge in the Ghostlands, which itself is diseased. A major stronghold for the Scourge is in Deathholm, here." The Sin'dorei warrior tapped her delicate finger against the mock image of the complex. "We think something in here is somehow 'powering' the Scourge. Theoretically, we've gone through the area carefully and thoroughly, but the Scourge persist. We must be _missing _something, though. Perhaps having another look at it from a completely different perspective will finally rid us of it."

Lelthas made a considering sound, her eyes fixing on Deathholm. Even through the map she could feel the necromantic magic saturating the area, and it made her scowl. "I will make sure that the area will be freed from the necromantic taint that sickens it. I promise you."

Lelthas was entirely sincere. Necromancy made her ill and furious, so she would fight to her last breath to release the area from the stranglehold of the dark magic.

Her fervor seemed to appease the Sin'dorei, who smiled (as much as the Bloof Elves ever 'smiled') and inclined her head. "Otherwise," she continued, "the Scourge are in retreat all over the main Horde lands, if not wiped out entirely." She looked at Lelthas, curiosity burning in her fel-green eyes. "Those amulets you gave some of the officers that you said would draw the Scourge worked wonderfully." There was an unspoken, 'How did you make them?'

_The gems tinkled brightly against the plate armor that covered her hand and she knelt down, ignoring the blood that clung to her armor. Gingerly, she placed the gems in the blood she was kneeling in and passed her hand over them, drawing power from the life-liquid beneath her. The various colors of the precious stones changed to a deep black, little perfect circles around them where they had sucked power from the blood they were partially submerged in._

_When she picked them up, they glowed darkly in her palm, balls of brightly burning shadow, power captured within their facets._

"I'm glad," she said instead, ignoring the silent inquiry as she pushed the memory away.

"As for the Eastern Kingdoms and Lordaeron..." the Orc cut in, he hesitantly putting his hands on the table, which zoomed out from the Ghostlands and hovered over Kalimdor before switching to a bird's-eye view of the Eastern Kingdoms. "The Forsaken say they are quite capable of taking care of their Scourge problem on their own," he half-growled, obviously miffed.

Lelthas was certain that the Forsaken hadn't bothered about being polite in telling the Orc more-or-less to go away and shove it, which she mentally tacked up as _another_ thing she could use in the future.

"While the former Plaguelands have been reclaimed, the Scourge have not left entirely and continue to be a plague on the living." He huffed in frustration. "We go there next."

The Sin'dorei bristled at being told what to do, but Lelthas simply nodded. "I was about to suggest that myself. Part of the Plaguelands have been claimed by the Alliance, however." Lelthas paused and tapped the Alliance-owned Plaguelands, zooming in. "It seems that some diplomacy will be in order."

The Orc sneered, the Sin'dorei joined in the disdain.

Lelthas sighed. "I'm not asking _you_ yourselves to make nice with the Alliance. I understand that you harbor no love for them." Lelthas removed her hands, looking at the magically projected terrain. "We will deal with the Alliance when the time comes—our attention should be on freeing Horde lands from the Scourge-taint."

The two commanders nodded, glad to ignore the diplomacy that would eventually be an unfortunate necessity.

Lelthas smiled faintly, pleased by the progress of her orchestration. Everything was going more-or-less according to her plan, which was a relief. She had endured enough setbacks and resistance earlier in her machinations.

"Very well, my dear sir, lady," she said, acknowledging the Orc and Sin'dorei respectively. She sighed and ran a tired hand through her hair. "For now, we rest. We will go after the Ghostland once we are rejuvenated and healed. When will the supplies from Silvermoon arrive?"

"At the latest, tomorrow morning," the Sin'dorei replied.

"Good," Lelthas said firmly. "Now, you two go rest. We had a long battle—everyone is weary."

"You rest too," the Orc murmured with grudging respect.

Lelthas nodded and shooed the other commanders out of the tent. She waited until they were far enough away before she slumped down onto a chair, deeply exhausted.

_If you only used my power, you'd be invincible._

Lelthas shook her head and scowled. _Shut up._

There was a dark chuckle in her mind that made her scowl at the ground.

_This is a consequence of you picking me up._

_I can leave you hidden away somewhere where no-one will ever find you again,_ she snarled in reply.

Lelthas got a distinct impression of a scowl and a growl, which was a faint comfort. She knew how much being stuck where he was pissed off the occupant of the blade, and she made ample use of it when he started to get on her nerves.

She _did_ wonder, sometimes, how long she really _would_ be able to resist the siren song of dark magic that sung just below the surface of her skin.

Her eyes drifted over to the blade at her side and her fingers ran across the intricate working of the pommel. She turned away from it and leaned her elbows on her armored thighs, chin resting delicately on plate-covered hands.

_I hadn't thought it possible, but _no-one_ recognizes the helm or sword that I bear,_ she thought with wry amusement before snorting at herself and standing with a stifled groan. _Not like I recognized them either. Truly, they have been relegated to myth._

The sword hummed at her side, which made her gently brush her fingers against the handle. She placed the helm back on her head and walked out of the Sanctuary back into the bright evening of the Eversong Woods.

She walked to the Dead Scar and turned back the way they had slowly, tortuously, freed from the Scourge. From the gates of Silvermoon to the edge of the Ghostlands had taken four days. Four agonizing, painful, costly days. Lelthas knew that the toll would only grow steeper the closer they came to what used to be the Western Plaguelands. The area had long been free from substantial influence of the undead, but it was nonetheless a dangerous place.

_Stop fighting it. _Use_ the power. A thought would control the Scourge and there would no longer be a need to have any of your comrades get hurt._

It was the most convincing argument he had come up with as to why she should tap into the dark powers that dwelled within the helm she wore. Still, she ignored it. Being able to suddenly control the Scourge after having lost lives to them would reflect badly upon her and hinder the groundwork she was so carefully laying.

"Commander?"

Lelthas turned to face the speaker, the shaman standing before her looking solemn, but her eyes carried a sparkle of triumph.

"Yes, Narjan?" Lelthas acknowledged, hands clasping behind her back.

The female Tauren looked exultant. "All Scourge presence in Eversong Woods is gone." The Tauren shaman managed to almost look _smug_. "The land can _finally_ begin to heal with the appropriate tending."

Lelthas started. "All research the Sin'dorei have done indicates that the damage is _permanent_."

"The Spirits have truly blessed our endeavor," Narjan said and smiled fiercely, the gesture almost terrifying in its intensity.

_Well, the ground does feel different, _Lelthas thought to herself before she smiled widely, it visible even beneath her helm. "We must announce the good news," she said and started walking towards camp, the shaman going ahead of her.

The news spread like wildfire once unleashed, and the mood of the entire camp seemed to change in an instant, from battle-weary and sore to jubilant. They were _succeeding_ where all other previous generations had failed. They could _finally_ reclaim their lands.

The night fell swiftly, and fires sprung up to keep those nearby warm as well as to cook food. Lelthas watched it all with smug satisfaction, helm once more tucked securely underneath her arm, so as to afford her a better view of her miniature army.

How funny to think that she, a Draenei, was leading those who were supposed to be her enemies. She supposed that being relatively fluent in Orcish had helped her case, and that she went out of her way to learn the culture and customs and language of each of the races probably only strengthened it. Her charisma, fearlessness, and pure _power_ had also seduced a great many people to her. If the Horde responded to anything, they responded to _power,_ and as she had effectively wiped the floor with all of their leaders (save Lady Sylvanas—she would _never_ willingly recruit Forsaken to her cause)...well.

In her, the peoples of the Horde saw salvation. After _so long_ enduring the presence of the Scourge and undead, it had seemed hopeless, as if they would simply have to deal with them for the rest of eternity.

Then, she appeared, and when she felled a Scourge-being, it _stayed down._ Where she trod, the Scourge fell in droves.

Lelthas drew support from all the Horde races except the Forsaken, but she wouldn't have taken their help even if they had offered it. Afterall, they themselves were simply Scourge who had supposedly wrenched free will from the grip of the "Lich King" so long ago. Lelthas would _never_ accept their aid, although saw a twisted irony in Scourge destroying Scourge.

_You will need more than just the hearts of the people to accomplish your goal._

_We will deal with that when we come to it,_ Lelthas asserted. _Right now, we must succeed in the first phase. It seems to be going well enough, but one should never assume the result before it is achieved._

Lelthas got the distinct impression of a sneer, which made her smirk wryly. He was never patient, and patience was required for her to succeed.

She drew herself out of her thoughts when she heard her name called, schooled her face into a more pleasant expression, and returned to her duties.

–

As she was dragged from memory-plagued dreams, her eyes opened to the familiar sight of her gripping her sword to her tightly, as if afraid it might escape her or be stolen during the night. She knew, however, that it would never leave her—it couldn't.

She forced her hands to release it, and pushed herself into a sitting position. She smiled wryly as flakes of frost fell from her, drifting down in gentle puffs as she stood, pulling her sword up with her, sheathing it in one fluid, practiced motion. Turning, she looked at the helm that was propped against her bundle of supplies. It stared at her with empty eyes, the blue gem sitting in its forehead glittering with suppressed dark energy.

"_You cannot use evil to fight evil!" he cried weakly around the blood that filled his mouth, he fading quickly._

"_Why not?" she asked curiously._

"My lady?"

Lelthas shooed away the memory and turned to face the Sin'dorei runner that stood a respectful distance away. "Yes?" she asked, walking over to the helm and picking it up.

"Supplies have arrived and are being distributed," the blood elf said.

"They have arrived early," Lelthas murmured approvingly, amused at how the Sin'dorei was watching her with blatant curiosity.

Lelthas was quite aware that she was an unusual sight in the lush land that surrounded her, she a figure of porcelain and obsidian against the deep greens and vibrant hues. That she was technically an enemy only made the contrast all the more striking. She put on the helm and the dark power washed over her, beckoning.

She ignored it.

"Shall we?" she asked and gestured the blood elf out first. They exited into the first rays of sunlight, it reflecting off of newly-polished armor. Her gaze turned to the Dead Scar, and the evil that danced on the edges of it, and her mouth tightened into a small snarl.

_Soon, soon..._

She wrenched herself away from it and caught up to the runner, who was giving her a curious look. "I just want to see this world free of undeath," she said in way of explanation. "Having those..._atrocities _there is..." she shook her head in disgust. "Nevermind. They will be obliterated soon enough."

The Sin'dorei gave her a weighing look.

Lelthas got that reaction a lot from the members of the Horde. They all seemed to wonder if, once the presence of the Scourge was gone, she would turn her formidable powers against them.

She gave the blood elf a smile as they walked, doing her best to use the expression to assuage the runner's worries if briefly. She _needed_ their trust, as it would be easier to sway them down the line, when she _really_ required it.

She _liked_ the blood elves anyway—they were pretty, so courting their favor wasn't half as hard as doing so with the Trolls, who were aesthetically unpleasing to her.

As she walked through the camp, her eyes fell upon a group that looked rather sad and sober, which intrigued Lelthas. She made a vague gesture to her escort, which was correctly interpreted as 'Go on without me,' and walked over to the group.

It took her a moment to place them all as friends of the Hunter who had died, and approached them with care.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked quietly, the shaman in the group having watched her as she approached, probably alerted by the spirits of Earth.

"Not unless you can rip a soul out of Death's final grasp, no," a mage growled darkly.

_You can._

_Shut up._

"My condolences," Lelthas said and bowed slightly, respectfully. "Her skills, courage, and presence will be missed."

She left that group behind and made a point at stopping at every huddle, speaking soft words of encouragement, asking after fallen or injured comrades, searching for a general sense of the camp's morale.

_Not bad for having fought for days to free the Scar,_ she thought, mildly impressed. She supposed that hope was the best motivator a commander could ever hope for—it gave the troops _purpose_ and _drive_, things which were necessary to conduct a successful campaign.

And it had, by all accounts, been successful so far.

_Your success would be assured if—_

_No,_ she asserted, cutting him off. She eventually came to rest on the edge of the Dead Scar, her eyes traveling towards Silvermoon in the far distance, then back to the Ghostlands.

"Do the Kaldorei still have a presence there?" she asked, looking down and to the left.

"A small one," she was answered, Ivi'al once again fading into sight. "How do you _do_ that?" she asked as she stood.

Lelthas's lips twitched in a smile. "I'm special."

The rogue scowled at the forest floor. "I'm trained in _subtlety_, you shouldn't be able to detect me."

Lelthas chuckled softly and shook her head. "Don't worry about it."

The Sin'dorei snorted in a very un-ladylike manner, which made Lelthas smile faintly.

"We shall rest for today," the Draenei said. "The Scourge are going nowhere, and everyone needs a breather."

The rogue's lips split in a silent snarl. "We are rested. The faster we clean out the Scourge, the better."

Lelthas paused. "Is that _you_ speaking, or _everyone_?"

The blood elf looked sullen. "It is _my_ opinion, but I have no doubt that it is shared."

"Mm," Lelthas murmured, her fingertips lightly brushing against her sword's hilt in contemplation. "We shall see. If the camp becomes agitated, I will direct their energy towards their enemies. However, I believe a rest is called for."

The rogue vanished from sight with a dark mutter, leaving Lelthas alone once more.

_Well, never _truly_ alone,_ she amended internally, a flare of sullen anger meeting her admission.

_What happens, once you remove the Scourge from Azeroth? Where do you go from there?_ She asked herself.

Her eyes unfocused as she fell into quiet contemplation.

After a few minutes of idle thought, she sighed and shook her head. _I shall deal with that when the time is right._ She was about to turn away from the Dead Scar when she noticed something that made her distinctly uneasy.

Where she was standing, the grass was withering and warping.

She quickly moved away, stepping onto stone, and looked at the hoof-prints in astonished alarm. She wrenched off the helm and the dark power receded, leaving her clear-headed. This time, when she stepped onto the landscape, she left no mark.

She looked at the helm with unease. She knew it had dark magics, but didn't think it would affect her without her knowledge. She would have to be more careful in the future.

_Just give in,_ he whispered.

_And allow you an opportunity to take control of me? I don't think so._

He snarled, but was easily pushed aside. She had become used to him in their time together—which, truthfully, was quite substantial—and he to her. He still tried to manipulate her to do what he desired, but she liked to think herself stronger than that.

Even though she knew there were times she buckled a little underneath his whispers and performed things she would have _never_ done if she were in her right mind.

_Like pick up the helm,_ she thought to herself wryly. Still, it had its uses—although that might be her justifying a questionable action to herself.

_Kill him! He snarled._

_He has no weapon to defend himself! she replied._

_Do you want the power to save this world from the Scourge? Then take it from him! The only way you can do that is to kill him!_

_No! There must be another way!_

_She turned to the man who lay a few yards away from her, regarding her with fathomless, burning eyes. "Please! Just _give_ me the helm!"_

"_No," he replied firmly. "You mean well, but you could not resist its dark call."_

_She started, then snarled. "I am a servant of the Light. It will _not_ control _me._"_

_His look was full of pity, which made her stomach curl in anger. How _dare_ he pity her!_

She had hated herself for days afterward, the memory of his severed head rolling away from his body, a tiny trail of fire following the path before flickering into nothingness burned into her memory.

She shook herself out of her memory and turned to face her camp.

She walked carefully on the broken stone path, her helm remaining gripped tightly beneath her arm. She resolved not to wear it unless in battle or a situation in which her death was highly likely if she _didn't_ wear the helm. She was sworn to protect all life, defeat undeath—and causing undeath went against her personal vows.

The less she wore the helm, the less tempted she would be, too. All in all, it worked out to her advantage _not_ to wear the helm.

_Coward,_ he accused.

_Prudent_,she replied.

She felt him as a simmering undercurrent to her thoughts, and sighed. She gently rubbed a hand over her eyes, grudgingly admitting that she was more tired than she would like. Using the magic she was given took a heavy toll on her endurance, and she had noticed—with more than a little alarm—that using it was subtly changing her appearance. Her hair had always been pale, but now it was pure white, and her skin had changed from its healthy azure to a more ashen color, and the deep black of her armor only served to highlight that.

She walked along, her hoof-steps muted by the lush grass, heading leisurely to the command tent. She watched Dragonhawks flutter in the distance, saw small critters scuttle through the grass, observed sunshafts peaking through the trees—beauty was all around her, and she wasn't touched by any of it. It was getting harder and harder to appreciate the little things that made life wondrous, but she found she didn't miss the demand to appreciate them. As long as she was a good leader, as long as she led her soldiers to victory, no-one truthfully _cared_ about anything else she did. Mortals had numerous and inventive ways of perceiving things in a certain way that makes sense to their own world-view...even if such perceptions may be incorrect.

With a small, silent sigh, Lelthas resolutely shoved away all mundane distractions and forced herself to focus on the task she had set before her.

One that was only a small piece in a much larger puzzle that she had been crafting her entire life.


	2. Chapter 2: The Howling Zigguart

**Author**: I intend to update this story once per month. So, here is the second chapter for your perusal. Some people have asked about time scale...think elven measurements: it's been thousands and thousands of years since the current events in WoW.

**Disclaimer**: Lelthas belongs to me, kinda. The rest of WoW does not.

**Warning:** Rated R for: Gore, Sexual Themes, Disturbing Imagery/Concepts

**Chapter 2**

**The Howling Ziggurat**

"_Commanda Lelthas. We of da Eathan Ring have summin for ya."_

Lelthas reclined in a chair in her room at the Tranquillien inn, her hooves propped up on an ottoman, the helm resting delicately on one of said hooves. She turned a small, crystal vial in the light, and the neon green goo contained within glowed sickly as it cast eerie patterns on her armored fingers. She could _feel_ the decay and disease through the container and her armor, and it made her scowl.

_Somehow, this concoction is making its way into the land. The plants and animals grow fat on it, and while the act of cooking seems to cleanse most of the taint, it still lingers, which is why the Sin'dorei who make their homes in the Ghostlands are...different...from the ones who come from Eversong._

Lelthas tilted the vial slightly and watched the goo slither slowly down the inside, butting up against the secure stopper that was keeping it contained.

_The shaman and druids cannot figure out what is in it—just that it is evil and is what is poisoning everything._

She examined it for a few moments longer before she opened it, sniffing the contents of the vial. Her nose scrunched up and she moved it quickly away from her, regarding it with trepidation. It smelled as disgusting as it felt. But, if tests run by shaman and druids couldn't figure out what it was, and they were best with natural poisons, then the contents of the disease could 't be divined by normal methods. _Perhaps a rogue? _Lelthas' lips quirked in a small smirk. _Doubtful. What is in here is as much disease as poison._

Lelthas regarded the vial a little longer before she sighed.

_There _might_ be a way for me to find out what's in it. But, am I willing to take the risk?_

She examined the goo inside for a minute more before she shrugged delicately. "I don't think it _can_ kill me and I'll _probably_ know what's in it afterwards. I'm immune to most poisons, afterall," she murmured and downed the contents.

It went burning through her, making her clutch at her throat, gasping for breath, her body shivering. She had processed some rather vile forms of undeath and some very potent poisons before, but what she was dealing with was something else. It made her limbs seem ponderously heavy, and she could _feel_ her body struggling to keep her heart beating and her lungs working. The effort, magic, and toxins that had gone into making the goo had obviously been perfected over the centuries, and even _her_ tolerance was being stretched to the limit.

_Use my power if you don't wish to die!_ He told her, the dark energy beckoning as salvation from her pain and possible death.

_Can't,_ she replied tightly. But, oh, was it _so _tempting...it would be better than the result of her dying.

_But I might become something _worse, she thought. Still, she didn't want to die. _Options, options, options..._ she thought frantically.

Inspiration struck and her hands clawed out, wrapped around the hilt of her sword, and she drew on the strength she had carefully stored in it. Using that power, she managed to keep her mind and body just _barely _above the sickness that threatened to pull her down.

She saw the awful things that the necromancers had done over the centuries to perfect their blight, the unholy energy, distilled agony, the bodies and minds and souls that had been sacrificed in the name of undeath. She felt the necromancers' glee and the victims' pain, tasted the herbs and animal products that had been warped into something _evil_, knew what and who had gone into making something that seeped deep into the land and those who lived in it, and sapped away life and hope and dreams.

It was a tortuous half hour, but her body eventually neutralized the illness that had been contained in the vial she had been given.

She was trembling and actually _sweating_, her mouth was dry and her body _ached,_ but in the end she counted it a success, as she _hadn't_ died and _did _know what made up the blight.

_You're an idiot,_ he told her, a scowl in his voice—although whether from what she had done or the fact that she had denied him once more she was uncertain.

_Shut up,_ she replied weakly. _I know what is contained within that now, and no-one's going to like it when I list off the ingredients to them—should they ask._

_That had to be one of the stupidest things you've done._

_Along with that one time with the valkyr?_

_Possibly_.

She took the helm off her hooves and sat upright, her body protesting every movement. She groaned and coughed.

_I think it might be worse than that time with the trapper and—_

The shiver of disgust that rippled through her made Lelthas' mouth twist in a small smile. _I would think you'd be happy if I died._

_You are...a challenge. I want to see you give in to the power I have, not die. If you die, I will never know if you would succumb, and _that_ would be frustrating._

Lelthas shook her head slowly and stood carefully. Her legs were trembling, and she knew that if she attempted to walk, she'd stagger, so she figured that she'd wait a little longer before going out in public. She had a very specific image to maintain.

Her fingers brushed against the pommel of her sword as she forced her disordered thoughts back to focus.

_There is no antidote for that poison except to stop it at its source. It's being placed in the land—injected, probably. But where would someone be able to hide something like _that_? It's not exactly _subtle_. Deatholme, maybe? That's probably one of the hubs, but in order to disease the _entire_ Ghostlands, there should be multiple entry points._

She tapped her chin in thought, then took a step to see if her legs would support her. When there wasn't even the slightest tremor, Lelthas made sure her sword was secured to her hip, tucked the helm under her arm, and left her room. As she walked down the flight of gently twisting stairs, she saw the activity in the inn briefly hitch before continuing. Her lips twitched slightly at the event—it appeared the Sin'dorei of Tranquillien were gaining respect for her, if ever so slowly.

She left the inn after a nod to the innkeeper and went off to find a particular rogue, eventually locating her with a colleague.

"Ivi'al," Lelthas half-purred, causing the female to jump and whirl, daggers immediately in her hands.

"You have _hooves_, how can you be so _quiet_?" the rogue hissed, flustered, as the other rogue she had been speaking to melted away into the shadows.

Lelthas merely smiled. "I have a question of you, my lovely," she purred and brushed her fingers against the Sin'dorei's cheek.

"Would you _stop_ calling me that, and what?" the blood elf muttered, taking a few steps away and concealing her daggers on her body.

"Have you ever been inside either of the Ziggurats?" Lelthas asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

The Sin'dorei briefly paled, and the shame that flickered across her face told Lelthas that she had indeed been inside, and had been caught, but was lucky enough to make it out alive.

"While you were there, did you see anything of note inside?"

"I never said I was in there."

"I can make my request an order," Lelthas said, catching the rogue's eyes, the tone of her voice becoming hard. "Do not leave out anything."

The Sin'dorei scowled at the ground.

"_Ivi'al_," Lelthas said softly, the tiniest bit of compulsion ringing in her words.

Ivi'al struggled with herself before saying: "They were all dressed alike, so it was nearly impossible to tell the difference between the men and the women. It was very dark inside, with evil runes that slithered across the walls burned into the stone. While there shouldn't have been any light, a sickly green glow clung to the edges, making it _just_ possible to see."

"Where did the glow come from?"

"This kind of...of..._muck_ that was in a large pool around a central pedestal where one of the crazies was chanting words that made my ears hurt."

Lelthas made a 'hm'ing sound before giving the Sin'dorei a lusty wink. "Thank you for your time, my dear."

Ivi'al snorted and vanished, obviously unsettled, and left Lelthas to her musings.

_My suspicions were correct._

She turned on her hoof and made her way to where the other leaders had congregated, greeting them with an orcish salute. "I have something to discuss with you," she said solemnly. "Do you have a moment?"

The other racial leaders looked intrigued and followed Lelthas to the command center they had set up.

"Our progress down the Dead Scar has been exceptional, up to now," Lelthas said and brought up a map of the Ghostlands. Throughout the area that the Sin'dorei had reclaimed—from the edge of Eversong Woods to just above Tranquillien—they had driven the Scourge away and left the land open to healing. However, now that they had reached the edge of reclaimed land, they had hit a wall; they simply couldn't push any further, as the Scourge retaliation was ferocious enough that Lelthas didn't want to put her forces' health on the line.

_That _was why she had received the vial of poison from the Earthen Ring shaman—she and the other commanders had decided to search for a way to weaken the Scourge enough to break down the resistance they had mounted before they pressed on again. A high-ranking troll (who had recently become a part of their little council) had suggested that they look into the land itself—so they had, and now Lelthas had _results_ and a _plan._

The Orcish commander and the Sin'dorei both looked annoyed at the reminder of their failure to press onward. "We know this. What is your point?" the Sin'dorei stated flatly.

Lelthas inclined her head slightly. "The Earthen Ring shaman presented me with an...interesting...finding. The land is being poisoned by a substance that another Sin'dorei identified as something she had seen in the ziggurats. It is possible that if we destroy the ziggurats and whatever they contain, the lack of this poison will weaken the Scourge and help in the recovery of the Ghostlands itself."

The Sin'dorei commander sighed and played with an earring. "We've _tried_ to shut down the them, but no-one has found the mechanism, and we've lost far too many good people on what we've determined is a suicide mission."

"So you're going to give up?" the orc commander sneered.

The Sin'dorei bristled and was about to reply when Lelthas cut in.

"It will not be a suicide mission—not this time," Lelthas asserted and the Sin'dorei snorted.

"Why? Because _you_ are here?"

Lelthas paused and regarded the Sin'dorei thoughtfully. "You still don't fully trust me, do you?" she half-asked, half-stated. "Is it because I am a Draenei? Or is it because of my...abilities?"

"We are grateful for what you have done for us," The Sin'dorei replied, evading the question.

"While your people work with ours in the Earthen Ring, you are not like them," the Tauren leader stated. "You are...different."

Lelthas paused for a second before she spoke: "Commander Bladefist." Lelthas turned to face the orc who was now paying attention to her. "What would I have to do to prove my sincerity to your people?"

"A feat of strength," the orc answered without hesitation.

_A feat of strength, hm? What can I do that I have not already done?_

_They are fools, _he sneered.

_They are cautious—I am not a normal Draenei, as Plainstalker pointed out. I am a terrifying unknown._

An idea slowly formed, and Lelthas gave it seriously consideration. _Yes, yes...that might work._

He seemed amused by her plan, and while that made Lelthas uneasy, she had better things to attend to than his insanity.

She turned away from her musings and caught the eyes of the Sin'dorei commander. "Lady Dawnstrider, which poses a more potent threat to you: the Bleeding Ziggurat or the Howling Ziggurat?"

The woman frowned. "The Howling is closer to Tranquillien, so you could make a case for that being more threatening."

Lelthas nodded slowly as she fully outlined her plan in her mind, and it was only once she was _sure_ that she could pull off what she was planning did she speak: "Elder Plainstalker, Shaman Zan'kai, Commander Bladefist, Lady Dawnstrider. Pick out one person from amongst your soldiers who you consider trustworthy and neutral in temperament towards me. They shall accompany me to the Howling ziggurat."

"What? Why?" The Sin'dorei asked on reflex.

"To prove my sincerity, I will remove the threat that the Howling Ziggurat poses—permanently. We will also see if the ziggurats are helping keeping the land diseased."

"Ya woul go wit onla one pason t' help ya?" the troll asked, obviously impressed.

"They're not going to _help_ me. They're there to _observe_. When I am finished, not one soul will be left within that building, and the manner with which to shut down the devices is found."

All four leaders stared at her before the troll said what everyone was thinking: "Ya crazy." He sounded pleased.

Lelthas smiled slightly. "If I fail, then obviously I am unfit to lead you. If you receive a negative report from the one who observes me, you can choose to follow my lead or break off. If they come back with a positive report, I will have shown you that when I declared that I would rid the world of the undead, _I_ _meant it._"

The Sin'dorei was obviously reeling at Lelthas' statement that she would go on a mission no sane individual would take up, but the orc and troll commanders looked as if approved of her resolution. The Tauren seemed intrigued.

"Why? Why go so far out of your way to help a people that are not your own? Who are technically _enemies_?" the Tauren asked.

"The Scourge are an enemy of all," Lelthas replied simply. "Now, once you pick out your person, I will be off."

Lelthas bowed to the collected leaders and walked out, her heart already beating faster, her fingers brushing against her sword's hilt.

_This should be..._interesting_..._

–

Lelthas wasn't looking forward to the battle up the slope to the ziggurat. She was certain that once she was _inside_ the building that it would be _easy, _but getting there would be the hard part—especially because she was running low on energy. The temptation to use the soft, dark power that sung to her in the helm was _very_ strong.

She looked at the sword in her hand and grimaced inwardly. _For how good I've become, there are still times when I fail to consider _all _the ramifications of an action._

Lelthas looked over at the druid she had been assigned and nodded. "Remember—you are here to observe. Do nothing to aid me. Of course, should you desire to take down a few enemies yourself, I would not be adverse to it, but do not help _me_."

The Troll nodded and in the blink of an eye, Lelthas found herself looking at a rather large cat—with tusks, she was amused to find.

Lelthas turned to the slope that loomed before them. It wasn't _too_ bad, all things considered. It seemed as if the necromancers had grown cocky from how well they had repelled her force's movement down the Dead Scar, and they sure as the Nether didn't expect a single person to try and assault them in their seat of power.

_Well, Wei always said I was crazy,_ she thought idly before charging up the slope.

She pulled a number of ghouls to her, and laid down a circle of burning, bubbling energy that crawled up the undead and blew them apart, scattering the field with chunks of smoldering flesh and drawing the attention of caster-Scourge to her while alerting the necromancers inside to her presence.

Afterall, it wouldn't be fun to just sneak in and do what needed doing—she needed to _scare_ the necromancers, as that would make them less likely to make prudent decisions.

She threw out a thread of icy energy that snaked around one of the casters, freezing it so abruptly that it fell apart, bones no longer held together by whatever unholy design had kept them connected.

A flicker of power superheated the liquid that ran through the abominations, bursting them at the seams, rancid ichor and half-decayed organs sloshing out onto the ground around them. In their blind obedience, the Scourge kept on seeking her, and she kept on sending them to a final rest, the energy that animated them flowing steadily to her and her sword.

Her approach sent some necromancers out to meet her, their leader presumably hoping that they would be able to stop her in her tracks by outnumbering and overpowering her. Initially, the number of casters _was _a problem; however, working on the assumption that magic was just energy and her sword absorbed energy, she took to swatting at any shadow-bolts and non-curses with her sword—and was pleased when her sword indeed absorbed the magical energy.

_At least I have one way of combatting their magic, if not their curses._

As she worked up the slope to the Howling Ziggurat, the resistance became more focused and intense, gaining a surprised and desperate air to it. Lelthas _knew_ she had been injured, both by Scourge and spells, but the injuries just...didn't matter. The energy she was collecting was healing her as fast as she was being hurt, and with the exhilaration flooding through her, her wounds were a secondary concern.

Mangled, warped limbs fell to the ground with wet, sloppy thuds amidst the more solid percussion of what had once been living—and Lelthas used the term loosely with regard to necromancers—beings fell to the corrupted forest floor. Lelthas interrupted the gathering of shadows around a necromancer's hands by sending chilling energy through her to break her concentration, and the second of hesitation was all Lelthas needed to neatly cut the woman apart at the waist, the fabric of the cloth robe she had worn stained dark with blood and gore from ruptured organs as she fell to the ground with a cry of pain and desperation. Lelthas crushed the necromancer's skull under her iron-shod hoof and her sword absorbed the soul that vacated the husk before she moved to block the heavy, uncoordinated swing of an axe from an abomination. Her muscles quivered under the brute strength, but she threw the monster off her and let loose a blast of hungering cold, freezing all those around her in solid blocks of ice. She took the brief moment of respite to down a health potion before she struck out with her sword, cutting at the hearts and cores of all those who surrounded her, pulling away bright balls of blue energy from the Scourge and wispier trails of souls from the bodies that fell to the ground amidst the frost that had formed.

She laughed at the curse that wracked her body, shaking off the pain. Before, when she had been working on merely Scourge-energy, it had been an issue—now, with souls feeding her and her blade...well, things were different. She pulled the necromancer who had cast it to her before cutting the man's head off, blood spurting out of the stump of his neck, the liquid invisible against her black armor, his soul drawn into her sword, making her shiver as he was absorbed into the blade.

Any necromancer who tried to run from her—and there were quite a few—were frozen in place until Lelthas could attend to them, cutting them down mercilessly, their deaths painful and efficient so as to replenish her energy and remove the threat they posed as quickly as possible. The bright glow of the runes on her sword were tinged purple from all the blood and gore that coated her blade as she finally entered the Ziggurat itself.

A lesser being than she would have been surprised and thrown off by the magnitude of the malignance and power that bristled against her as she entered the building—it was a significant defense, and would have been effective against weaker-willed opponents. Lelthas brushed its influence on her mind aside, and her sword glowed brightly as it absorbed the magical energy fueling the spell.

The caster on the other end of the spell must have caught on quickly, as she soon found that the oppressive nature of the spell had vanished. Lelthas' lips quirked in a small, feral smile, and in a language long dead, she whispered in a voice that was-and-was-not her own two words that dripped with hunger and savage glee before she continued into the building. She walked around it clockwise until she came to the main central chamber, her sword singing with the _need_ for more.

Inside were four dead necromancers, with one...Lelthas wasn't sure what to call the caster that stood in the midst of the sickly-glowing death-tainted liquid that the necromancers utilized to keep the Ghostlands under the thrall of undeath. He had obviously wrenched the lives of the four dead casters away to supplement his own power, becoming a sort of...super-necromancer?

_Doesn't matter, _Lelthas thought with a mental shrug.

Lelthas quickly closed the distance between them, and before the caster had a moment to even start to gather power to cast a spell, Lelthas claimed his life, and, through him, four others.

_Five souls for the price of one, hm?_ She thought, amused, as the runes on her blade flared as the life from the body behind her dwindled.

The runes on her sword pulsed in time to her heartbeat, the only light within the dim, dank confines. It was a cold, comforting glow, one that was thick with contained power, beautiful and seductive. Her sword hadn't been satiated on mortal souls for quite some time—it was a welcome change of pace, to not have the gnawing reminder that if she didn't keep it supplied with energy and souls that _her_ soul would be the next thing to go. As she was very attached to her soul, if others had to die for her survival...well, that was the way of the world, was it not?

But, she wasn't _quite_ finished.

_There is no way to shut off this gook that I can see _here_. Which means that the mechanism is somewhere else._

Lelthas scoured the entry and the walls before returning to the central pedestal, her hoof lightly tapping the floor as she thought thought. After a moment, she stepped up the ramp and knelt, then ran her hands slowly and carefully over the altar, using the dead body of the necromancer as cushion for her kneels as she bent low to find any kind of switch.

She had to push the dead man off into the muck before she found a _very _small switch, carefully and thoroughly concealed deep within the structure. She pressed it and a section of wall came off from behind her. She smirked faintly, stood, turned, and entered the revealed hallway.

The narrow corridors and dark, dank power that pulsed through the place served only to make Lelthas seem more than mortal, more than even a _monster_, as her eyes and sword glowed dangerously. She didn't have to expend any energy to freeze those she came across in place—her mere presence did that well enough. She was careful to find all the hidden places, and killed those she discovered within. It took some time, but she eventually discovered the secret that would turn off the glowing death that circulated through the building.

_You would think they'd be more creative, _Lelthas thought dryly. _Then again, not many people like me come along to do what must be done—the Sin'dorei would certainly have balked at the method._

After a little more searching, Lelthas cornered a necromancer who would be more than sufficient for her purposes. The man threw his considerable power at her, but Lelthas was able to weather it long enough for her to cut off his hands and break his knees, sending him falling to the floor in a twitching pile of agony. She picked him up by his hair and dragged him behind her as she sought the exit.

When she finally surfaced from the underground labyrinth, her steps left bloody hoof-prints in her wake and she could taste blood and fear on her lips as her sword hung loosely beside her. She took the man she had been pulling along behind her and threw him onto the pedestal in the center of the glowing goo. He attempted to scramble off the ledge, but a brief burst of energy had him ensconced in icy chains, preventing him from running away.

Lelthas walked up to him and gazed at the panic-stricken face that was revealed to her. He was relatively young, and crazed with the need for power—and considering how addictive necromancy was, Lelthas wasn't surprised at how twisted he had become. Lelthas loomed over him and licked her lips.

"For the good of all," she whispered before she ripped his heart out, letting the still twitching muscle fall into the goo that surrounded her. The glow died as the blood and soul of the necromancer were released into it, the muck fading to become a dark black sludge that clogged the drain and smelled horribly. Lelthas delicately wrinkled her nose and turned around, her hoofsteps echoing oddly in the contained space.

Once she was sure no soul was left in the construct, she exited to find the Troll druid regarding her with something between disgust and intrigue.

Lelthas flicked some blood off her sword and hands before she and looked at the tall female. "Have I proven myself?"

The Troll nodded slowly, warily. "Ya done what ya say ya wou'."

Lelthas inclined her head and gave the druid a small smile. "Well, then. Shall we return?"

–

Lelthas was picking remains of undesirable substances out of her hooves when the Sin'dorei commander found her.

"Lady Dawnstrider," Lelthas greeted as she picked a piece of something-or-other out from between the iron she had attached to the bottom of her hooves and her hoof. "How are you doing?"

"The people of Tranquillien are grateful that you chose to clean yourself outside of the town," she said dryly, making Lelthas smother a snicker.

"It's the least I could do," Lelthas replied as she managed to get a particularly stubborn piece of _something_ free. She looked up at the commander and tilted her head slightly. "But there is more you wish to speak of."

The Sin'dorei regarded Lelthas for a long moment before her shoulders slumped. "You really did it," the female whispered, her fel green eyes defeated. "You did something _alone_ that so many of _our own people_ have failed to do," she half-spat.

Lelthas paused in her actions, then pushed herself to her feet and drew the sword out of the ground beside her, where she had planted it.

"My lady," Lelthas started, holding the sword horizontal to the ground, resting in her spread palms, displaying the runes and structure clearly for the blood elf to observe. "All my life, I have trained to fight the Scourge. Everything that I am, everything that I have, is for the sole purpose of ridding Azeroth of _all_ the Scourge."

Lelthas paused. "Your people have families, have friends and lives outside of being warriors, or paladin, or mages, am I right? They have interests and dreams and other reasons for living?"

The woman slowly nodded, waiting to see where Lelthas was going.

"_I_ do not. My interests, my dreams, my _reason for living_ is to cleanse this world of undeath." Lelthas turned her sword slightly, the light glinting coldly off it. "If you turned your mind, your body, your entire _being_ to one goal, one purpose...surely you'd be able to do things no-one else could in _that one realm_. I know nothing else."

Lelthas planted her sword in the ground again, resting her fingers lightly on the hilt, tracing the curve of the horns that twined around it. "_That_ is why I can do what I do."

The Sin'dorei looked troubled as Lelthas sat back down and began to clean the blood off her armor, and the cloth she was using quickly became dark red. "Really?" the commander asked.

Lelthas slowly shook her head. "I am an instrument of cleansing destruction. That is all."

"Is that all you want?"

Lelthas shrugged slightly. "I _want_ Azeroth to be free again. For people to no longer worry about someone misusing their body once their spirit is gone, or, even worse, enslaving their spirit."

"What will you do if you achieve your goal? If there are no longer any Scourge?"

Lelthas smiled slightly. "I will deal with it when that day comes. For now, I will focus on my resolution."

The blood elf commander became thoughtful. "It doesn't matter to you, does it? Who you're helping?"

"The Scourge is the enemy of all," Lelthas replied. She looked up from her work and caught the Sin'dorei's eyes. "But I am glad to be helping you, as I was glad to help the Tauren, and the Trolls, and the Orcs." The statement was only partially true, but Lelthas had become very adept at lying.

"Will you be equally so when you return to the Alliance?"

Lelthas smiled faintly. "Of course."

The Sin'dorei blinked.

"Do you trust my good intentions now? I will not abandon you or your people," Lelthas said and disposed the rag she had been using, it too darkly stained to be of any further use.

Silence reigned for a moment as Lelthas searched out a new rag before a soft sigh floated through the air. "The shaman and druids are already saying that the land 'feels lighter', even though only _one_ of the ziggurats is gone" the lady confessed. "You will not abandon us. Where do you plan on going, after you succeed here?"

Lelthas smirked inwardly at the Lady's statement of her inevitable victory. "The Plaguelands."

The commander was obviously about to say something more, but was drawn away by a call from one of her soldiers. Lelthas inclined her head in parting as the female left, then smiled smugly at the ground as she worked a particularly stubborn clot of one substance or another off of her armor.

As she cleaned, she found her mind drifting.

_She stood in an icy, secluded cavern in the midst of a frozen wasteland, looking at the weapon she had laid out before her. _

_She placed a hand over her heart and took a deep breath. "Is this really what you want?" she asked herself aloud, but the waiting silence gave her no answer._

_Do you want to rid this world of the Scourge? He whispered to her._

_She pulled on one of her neck-tentacles gently, the gesture nervous. "I do," she replied._

_Then you must remake me._

_She closed her eyes and whispered, "For the good of all."_

She shook her head to clear it of the memories and looked at the sword beside her. Blood-stained fingers gently brushed against the runes that trailed down the blade, before she turned back to her armor.

_The past is the past,_ she said. _All that matters is the future._

She was glad that _he_ wasn't bothering her, and felt his lack of comment was unsurprising—the more souls the blade consumed, the less of an influence he became. She assumed that the energy absorbed through the souls acted as a kind of barrier between them, keeping her mind mostly her own for however long the soul-energy lasted. It gave her a clear head with which to think and plan.

She worked some gook free from the chinks in her gloves, taking care not to cut herself. She didn't know what could be contained in the blood and ichor that her gloves had accumulated throughout the battle.

_I'm glad they chose to send a druid with me,_ she thought idly. _A shaman would have seen my sword absorb souls—spirits—which would _not_ have gone over well. It seems I have _some_ measure of luck._

She put one glove down, and her hand hesitated over the next before picking it up. _I will wait a day for the shaman and druids. Then, we shall go after the other Ziggurat and Windrunner Spire. After that, we recover and then clean out the former troll villages. Only once the Ghostlands proper are free of undead will we attack the Dead Scar again—and then Deatholme._

She rubbed her eyes with one hand, not minding the blood that was smeared across her alabaster skin. _So many details._

_You could just bypass all this nonsense if—_

_Go away,_ she said tiredly. _I don't need your 'advice' right now. There is only so much time—the Sin'dorei and I may be particularly long-lived, but support dwindles quickly. I must act _now_, and _your_ comments do _not_ help the situation any._

_More power would make things move faster._

_It would also make people suspicious._

_And they aren't after your trip to the Ziggurat?_

_They are in _awe_ of me right now. I will use that._

Lelthas put the glove down only half-finished and massaged her legs. It had been a long fight, no matter how easy it may have been, and all the action was taking its toll on her and her body. Still, it mattered little in comparison to what she had achieved.

"Commander Lelthas?"

Lelthas looked up, her eyes settling on a Sin'dorei priest of the Light, who was obviously torn between curiosity and apprehension. Lelthas gave him her best reassuring, 'you-can-relax-around-me' smile and replied, "My Lord Sunsorrow. To what do I owe this honor?"

The blood elf obviously squashed the desire to preen, and instead asked, "Are you injured? It was...difficult to tell when you first returned."

Lelthas gave him a small, apologetic smile. It _would_ have been hard to tell, considering all the gore she had been drenched in. "I understand. As you can see, however," she gestured to herself, clad in only white linen breeches and a shirt, "I am unharmed."

It seemed that her statement only served to make him uneasy.

_He expects me to be injured _somewhere_,_ she thought, amused. _It will make me seem more accessible. Hmmm..._

"I _have_ been feeling a little woozy, though—it's entirely possible that some poison entered my system. Would you mind taking a look?" she asked and extended a hand to him.

The priest took it carefully, obviously trying to not get the blood that was on her fingers on his own hand, and closed his eyes.

Lelthas felt the familiar tingle of the Light crawl across her skin and sighed happily. Even as disconnected as she was from it, feeling it so _near_ reminded her of from where she had come and who she had been.

_And how far you have fallen._

_Shut up._

The priest pulled away, frowning slightly. "You _do_ have some poison in your system—you'll have to see a druid to cleanse it. I've healed all the other minor injuries you picked up, although you should watch your heart. It beats...strangely."

_Strangely_? "Thank you, my Lord. I will keep that in mind. How are _you_ doing? Have you been kept safe during this campaign?"

"Our warriors are quite adept," he answered.

_Translation: We don't _need_ the other Horde races—we would be doing fine on our own._

"Good, good. I'm glad. I apologize for the delay in reclaimed your homeland."

"It is inevitable—the Scourge are quite strong," he replied, but a brief, fierce look passed across his face.

_Translation: Hurry it up already! You did it in Eversong, now do it _here.

"How are your colleagues doing?" she asked as she worked a piece of some sort of flesh from her hoof.

"We have lost some very good friends—but we are resolute."

_Translation: Someone who was _really_ important to me—perhaps a family member or a lover?—died in the conflict. I _will_ get vengeance on the Scourge for him/her._

Lelthas let the conversation wander between a number of topics, making note of the subtle discontents and points of pride, knowing those would be good, for it gave her insight into at least the Sin'dorei psyche.

"I'm sure you have other duties to attend to," Lelthas said as the conversation was dying, picking up the glove she had abandoned. "I'm sorry for monopolizing your time."

"It was no matter," he murmured, and Lelthas could tell even _he_ was surprised by the sincerity.

"We will persevere," Lelthas said in way of parting and a promise as he left, he looking quite thoughtful.

_He has given me much to think about,_ she mused. _Including the depth of my power. I will have to cut back._

She sighed deeply and ended up smearing blood through her hair as she ran her fingers through the bone-white strands. _It may slow the progress, but it will be necessary to retain faith._

_I thought you said people were in awe of you, and would therefore listen?_

_There is a fine line to tread between awe and fear—awe is good; fear is not._

She put down the cleaned glove and looked at the helm that was staring at her from its place beside her sword, the empty sockets seeming to look right back at her.

_It was damningly beautiful, the power that washed over her. She gasped and shivered as it trickled down to her soul, seeping into her very being. _

_It was all she had been looking for and more. _

"Lok'tar Ogar," she whispered under her breath before pulling over her breastplate and running her hands over the intricate patterns that swirled across the surface. "I _will_ succeed. And once I am done, Azeroth will be changed forever."


End file.
